Category Archives: Poetry

If Machines Could Talk

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Unscheduled Departure

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When We Were One

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On the 7th Day

quietly she waits, keeping the eggs warm

The hummingbird sits patiently still. No babies yet to be seen. Nearby we see some other birds, no doubt thinking about nesting, or are they?

flicker chipping holes

spotted towhee, and a golden crowned sparrow

I visited 2 days ago, and it was raining.

I thought the nest was empty:

not quite empty

On closer inspection I saw that the mother was there, when she decided to shift position.

 

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Filed under Birds, Poetry, Uncategorized, Wildlife

Damn the Cost

1-IMGP0876

The new bridge is finally open. It cost over $100,000,000 for a bridge over a narrow channel. Fixing the old bridge would have cost one quarter of the price. But heck, now we can sell a pile of scrap steel to China!

Never mind – it’s National Poetry Month, so here is a poem.

Spring and plants awake again
Pollen in the air brings pain
Coughing sneezing, choking, wheezing
Eyeballs itching, drips displeasing
Nature fights against oblivion
While men destroy her
With hearts harder than obsidian
In the bough tiny birds nest
Because survival allows no rest
Mother Anna incubates a pair
Underneath the Red Hawk’s glare
On the street motorbikes race
Courting death they speed apace
Spewing toxic fumes and dust
Eventually they all will rust
Nearby on the hill appears
A looming condo confirming fears
All bow and praise the economy
Forget about your lost autonomy
Forget about the forest lost
We must have progress
Damn the cost!

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Flies I Have Known

I knew him, fly

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Filed under Animal psychology, Poetry, Typewriters, Wildlife, writing

gOOdbye octo-ober

I just squeaked this in so I wouldn’t miss posting for an entire calendar month. I’m torn between writing a novel for Nanowrimo or doing some other creative endeavour, such as sketching. As of Hallowe’en night I have no plot ideas, nothing, so it may be sketches. You never know about this however, because all of a sudden – blam!!! an idea comes forth like a thunderbolt (lightning bolt that is – thunder has no bolt). I may secretly be hoping that the ___bolt doesn’t arrive, so I can avoid the whole thing of hours writing (typed double spaced) and then a year of editing. It’s the aftermath that ruins the fun. If I could be content with sloppy work that would be better. Some might say I am, and who knows but they may be right, and yet I like to think that my work is honed like a Gillette Blue Blade (not the rusty ones). Well here is my creative output for the day, in preparation for a burst of creativity in November… ahem!

jack O – 2017

sitting on the peter verin memorial bench, looking south east

peter verin memorial bench, looking north east

park bench, looking north eastish

Dorothy, my 1926 Remington Portable (German)

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Filed under NaNoWriMo, Photography, Poetry, Sketching, Typewriters